


Shared danger is half the sorrow

by Green_Sphynx



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: DAIMP, Dragon Age: Inquisition Multiplayer, Drunk Sex, M/M, inappropriate use of single person tents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 11:59:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18590824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: A collection of DAI Multiplayer drabbles





	1. Hall/Rion - A bit mean

Rion knew he could be a bit mean sometimes.

He generally didn't care, especially not with the kind of people he was working with for the Inquisition. Most of them were worse - or in the case of that one Templar, her hide was so thick with obliviousness that she probably didn't even notice, and if she did he _liked_ it that way. She could go suck his balls.

But there was one person with who it _did_ matter, and when Rion flapped his mouth at him he tended to feel bad afterwards. It wasn't like he was being mean to Hall on purpose or anything… he just ran his mouth before remembering that Hall was not actually used to being spoken to like that and that he took it all very personal.

Hall was not actually used to be spoken to _at all_. And it showed.

Thing was, Rion was perfectly happy to snark with the others, to trade barb after barb with Sidony or Tamar or Katari. He had no scruples about harping on Belinda or playfully mocking Korbin or Thornton or Cillian. But whenever he made an even remotely snide remark aimed at Hall, he would turn and see confusion and hurt flash over the archer's face, and he could _see_ him wonder what he did wrong and duck between his shoulders a little.

And it _ate_ at Rion.

So when Hall hesitantly tried asking him to join him for a drink in the tavern, Rion was more than eager to jump on the occasion. This was his chance to make Hall understand that Rion wasn't trying to be mean to him and that he shouldn't be hurt. Or maybe even apologising. Not that he had really said anything that should be apologised for but you know, in case Hall felt actually hurt.

It was really too bad that instead of finishing up their mission and getting back to the town they would stay in on their way back to Skyhold, they got held up by wounds. Rion got stabbed in the thigh by some asshole Venatori stalker, leaving him unable to walk at a normal speed. Tamar would have lifted him over her shoulder with all the grace of a sack of potatoes in order to march back, but thank the Maker she had caught a sword just wrong on the arm and would be unable to carry him that far. He shuddered at the thought of being carried anywhere by her, let alone for the whole march back to the town.

So they ended up setting up camp within the Tevinter ruins they had just cleaned out, a corner with a clear view to keep guard and a narrow path easy to defend - or put a nice fire glyph in to burn anyone trying to ambush them to a crisp. It has clearly served as living quarters in a distant past, and although there was no luxury of beds to use, they did have the option to split and sleep in two separate rooms. And Rion was very happy to not have to sleep in the same space as Tamar _or_ Sidony, thank you very much.

"So, no tavern tonight, but we can still drink." Rion grinned at Hall as he pulled two dusty, unmarked bottles out of his pack. "Pilfered these earlier in that office-y area. Wanna find out what's in them?"

"Are you sure that's safe?" Hall looked anxious at the thought of drinking something unknown, but then again he always looked anxious.

"Sure it is. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Ugh." Sidony stood up with her small bowl of food, the corners of her mouth drawn so deep into a scowl Rion almost worried she'd separate her chin. "I'm not staying around for this. I will take my bedroll and a book and eat my food alone."

"Your loss, not ours." Rion carefully cast a spell to twist and pull the cork, concentrating on his far less practised force magic and happy to ignore the necromancer stomping off. Tamar was watching him with mild curiosity, visibly torn between wanting to join them and _not_ wanting to join them, _ever_.

"Want some too, or are we still not friends?" Rion offered her the opened bottle first, a shark grin on his face. He was doing this to make Hall feel less rejected, and Rion had absolutely heard when Tamar told Hall they weren't friends when he'd asked her the same question about going to the tavern earlier. He would have her eat those words if she wanted a drink.

Turned out she didn't. Rion blinked with some surprise when Tamar just huffed and stood up, following after Sidony without deigning them with so much as a 'good night'.

"I hope she'll be alright," Hall remarked quietly, and Rion gave him an odd look.

"Tamar? Sure she will, she gets cut up with swords all the time. If you're going to worry about the wounded, worry about _me_."

"She was really pale. I think she lost a lot of blood." Hall gave him such an earnest look Rion felt that guilt gnawing at his stomach again.

"She'll be fine," he insisted, more uncomfortably this time. He quickly pushed the dusty bottle into Hall's hands. "Here, you try it first. It smells like wine so it's probably still good."

Hall eyed the bottle in his hand as if he was expecting a snake to slither out any moment. "Are you really sure?"

"Stop your whining and drink, Andraste's tits, man."

With one last uncertain glance at Rion's face, Hall tipped the bottle and drank, taking a much bigger mouthful than Rion would've suggested for trying an unknown drink. But when the bottle came down again Hall wasn't spitting it out, or making a weird face, or fainting. He was, in fact, blinking down at the bottle in surprise.

"This is really good!"

"Really?" Rion snatched the bottle and quickly tipped it up, taking a large gulp from the liquid. It was indeed a wine, like he had thought, much much smoother on the tongue than expected. Much better quality than anything he'd ever had back in the Circle, that was for sure.

"Maker, this is the good stuff!" He quickly drank again when he saw Hall reach for the bottle, keeping the wine to himself for a moment longer before relinquishing the bottle. They were both eager to guzzle down the quality wine as fast as if it was cheap ale, and Rion only realised he could've opened the second bottle so they didn't have to pass the one back and forth by the time he was letting the last drops slide down on his tongue.

Hall was already fumbling with an arrow into the cork, which was absolutely not going to work, so Rion confiscated the bottle quickly to use the same force magic trick as before. It was notably harder on the second bottle, and he had to squint through the haze of alcohol from the first to get it done at all. But once he succeeded, with a triumphant laugh, of course, the bottle was snatched away by Hall.

"Hey! You already got the other one first!" Rion scrambled up to his knees to try take the bottle back, following after Hall who was leaning away as far as he could to keep out of Rion's reach. Rion practically landed in Hall's lap before he managed to steal the bottle back, crowing his victory and quickly drinking from the delicious wine. It was a nectar, it was like honey, it was like gold. It was all the good sensations from a bottle of lyrium but with divine taste.

He forgot to vacate Hall's lap, deeming it wise to stay as close as possible so Hal wouldn't steal off with the bottle when he handed it back to the archer, and the bottle went back and forth again with few words spoken between them. Not entirely how Rion imagined drinking with Hall, but he could blame the quiet man for Rubbing off on him with his silence. Rion rarely left a silence unfilled with chatter, but for some reason it was comfortable now.

Hall had a way of making silence - something Rion found inherently uncomfortable - _peaceful_.

Although it might also be the wine.

The wine, that Rion realised was currently being finished off by Hall.

"Hey- wait! You had the first sip, I get to have the last!"

Rion tried to get the bottle away from Hall, but the damage was already done. It was empty, the Nectar of the Maker himself gone. All that was left was the purple staining of Hal's lips and the saliva that made them glisten when Hall's tongue peeked out to wet them.

Rion didn't really _think_ about it. He just did it. He was conveniently close anyway.

Leaning forward in Hall's lap, Rion planted his lips firmly on Hall's. He pried their lips open immediately to slip his tongue into Hall's mouth, chasing the flavour of the wine before it could disappear.

Next thing he knew they were flat on Hall's bedroll in the relative privacy of the chamber adjacent. Rion had Hall's hips straddled, not unlike before, and his tongue in Hall's mouth. Hall's lips were chapped but oh so pleasant against his own, hesitantly enthusiastic in their response against Rion's lips. Hall's tongue flicked against his own shyly, very careful about testing the waters, and Rion made a small noise of impatience and pressed them together harder.

He drank in the sound of Hall's gasp, the stiffening of his body beneath Rion's and the immediate slumping with a trust that Rion wasn't sure he deserved. Hal's hands fluttered next to them for a moment before settling on Rion's back - then he seemed to think better of it and brought his hands down to Rion's thighs instead. Rion hissed when a hand brushed against the stab wound on his thigh, pulling back for a moment to give Hall an admonishing look.

With the eyes Hall was making at him, he might as well have kicked a puppy.

Rion gave an all-suffering sigh and grabbed Hall's hands to plant them on his arse, and then he dipped down to get back to their kissing. Hall's hands remained frozen on their perch, but Rion would just let that be, for now. He still had plenty things to entertain himself with, like Hall's mouth and letting his own hands wander.

And there were good places to wander here. He could feel the muscles through Hall's sleeves, strong and defined from his years of practice with a bow. His shoulders were all hard muscle, flexing under squeezing fingers. But lower down was a soft belly - although not all that much of it, unlike what Rion was used to from fellow mages who lived their life in a Circle with plenty of food to go around - and then supple, squeezable thighs. Hall could definitely put on some weight if you asked Rion, but he was a delight to touch and explore.

It was an especial delight to feel Hall's belly jump under his fingers once he wormed his hands under Hall's shirt. Rion was drinking in tiny sounds from Hall's lips by now - tiny whimpers or moans, so small and shy it was frankly adorable. Hall was clearly holding back while not quite used to doing so, only halfway succeeding at keeping quiet.

Rion knew they _should_ keep quiet, with Sidony and Tamar in the next room… but Hall was being so much _fun_.

So against better judgement, Rion let his fingers travel down, sliding lightly over the thick bulge in Hall's breeches to map out the man's cock - only to be surprised by Hall all but bucking under him, Hall's hands suddenly holding onto Rion's arse _very tight_ and a deep barely muffled, guttural moan spilling from Hall's lips between them.

Rion sat frozen, just too inebriated to quite grasp what happened in under five seconds… and then it hit him, the dampness under his hand and the embarrassed whimper from Hall, the archer's hands flying up to cover his face now.

"I-I'm so sorry, I-"

"You can't be _serious_!" Rion sat up indignantly, unsure whether to feel offended or flattered.

And okay, he knew he could be a bit mean sometimes. But looking down at Hall laying there all dishevelled under him, he was sure he could make up for that sooner or later.


	2. Hall/ZITHER! - Tragic Ballads

"Say, Ed Two, do you sing?"

"I… what?"

As slow as Hall was in the uptake, Isabela was fast and sharp as a bolt from her special crossbow, even halfway down the bottle of… whatever it was that she was drinking.

"Oh, Zither! What a marvellous idea! If you don't know at least two drunken tavern songs, it's my _duty_ to teach you, sweet thing!"

Isabela was already halfway in Hall's lap when Zither! surprised them all with an almost perturbed protest.

"No, no, no! Isabela, darling, listen to that voice! It's too soft and _gentille_ for bawdy tavern songs. No, that is a voice that was made for ballads… tragic, _dramatic_ ballads!"

Isabela turned to give Hall a calculating look, and he tried to shrink under her - and _away_ from her, but she had one leg over his lap and that was a very strong thigh holding him in place.

"You're right," she finally sighed, then gently patted Hall's cheek like petting a skittish animal. "Do you know any of those, sweet thing?"

Hall nervously shook his head. "I-I don't know any songs, sorry."

"Oh come on," Thornton now pitched in from across the fire. "Everyone knows _some_ songs. Weren't you raised by some Dalish lady? Didn't she sing for you?"

Thornton's words only served to make Hall feel even more nervous, now turning wide eyes on Neria and Cillian. "I mean, yes she did, so I technically- I know a Dalish lullaby, but that's the only song I know and I don't want to offend-"

Surprisingly, Cillian actually perked up, clearly taking an interest in the conversation now. "Oh no, da'len, you wouldn't offend at all! It would be good to hear something from home again - don't you agree, lethallan?" He nudged Neria next to him and although Hall feared the most from her, even she gave a somewhat reluctant smile.

"I suppose there's nothing wrong with it, as it was your childhood as well."

Not entirely what Hall had hoped to hear. It was nice that Neria was being nice to him because he was quite sure she hated him, but this was not the best time to be nice. This was the time that being nice just meant Zither! scooted closer with his lute in hand, looking oddly eager for someone wearing a full-face mask.

"So a Dalish lullaby then? Not usually my preferred style - _lullabies_ I mean, not Dalish music - but I'm simply _dying_ to hear you sing, Ed Two. Want some chords to help you start?"

"I suppose…?" But Zither! was already tickling a fine chord out of his lute, clearly having no intent to give Hall a chance to back out.

Hall cleared his throat awkwardly, knowing there was no way out of this now, and then hesitantly started singing.

He hadn't actually sung to song out loud since he was young. After Fanora deemed him strong enough to fend for himself and left him, he had sung it quietly to himself before bed for weeks. Eventually he had had to let it go, had to let _her_ go, and he had hummed the melody maybe once or twice since. 

It was strange how it still came so easily to him, despite it being so many years now. The words in the language didn't speak, the sweet, melancholic tune he had never heard the likes of again, they all came flowing out of him like they had just been waiting to be sung again.

It brought back his memories of Fanora - how she had been a strong and stern teacher, gentle when it mattered but hard as stone at any other time. Whenever he had called her mother she would correct him, tell him she wasn't, but that correction was never made harshly no matter how many times he made the mistake. She only looked more sad every time, but didn't miss a single occasion.

It reminded him of her hands, calloused and strong but warm and gentle with him when she tucked him in for the night. Harsh and squeezing when he disobeyed and went to her clan, or when teaching him how to defend himself. Careful and precise when teaching him how to fletch an arrow and string a bow.

Hall found his voice wavering with emotion when he finished the song, and only then he remembered to look up. Zither! had been accompanying his song with increasing amounts of background chords on his lute, and Neria was looking at him from across the fire absolutely _enchanted_. Cillian was beaming at him so proudly it made Hall duck a little down - and he was suddenly very aware that everyone around the camp fire was watching him.

Isabela broke the silence by clapping her hands enthusiastically, and Zither! followed almost immediately.

"Bravo! Encore! Had I known you could sing like _that,_ Ed Two, I would have suggested it far earlier!"

"I- uh… I think I'll retire to bed now." He scrambled to his feet despite the protests - Isabela physically hanging onto his arm to try keep him down, but he shook her off awkwardly. "I'm really tired after today, so uh, goodnight everyone."

He hurried away from the warm fire, drawing his cloak around him as the chill immediately seeped into his clothes from all sides as he made his way between the tents to the back, where the quarter master had given him a small tent to himself. It was little more than a space sheltered by tent canvas to crawl into and sleep, but it was perfect for him. He didn't require a big tent, and especially not the company of his fellows. As much as he wanted to be friends with them, he craved the quiet of being alone sometimes, and especially at night.

He had barely finished undressing to his undershirt for the night - muddy boots left outside the tent, heavy protective coat draped over his bedroll for extra warmth, when the flap of his small tent was suddenly lifted for someone to peer in. Hall shimmied under his blanket hurriedly, hoping to keep up his story of being tired - and he was, he really was tired - only looking up once he was no longer showing off his smallclothes.

It was a surprise to find Zither!'s mask there, the virtuoso crouched before the entry of the little tent.

"Is _this_ what you sleep in, Ed Two? This is outrageous, let me go speak to the quarter master and get you something better- no, you can come join me in _my_ tent, I have enough space. I can move my spare lutes to the dresser and free the second bed, although I've been told the springs are rather creaky-"

"P-please," Hall tried to interrupt quietly, only getting more nervous when that actually succeeded. "This tent is fine. I don't need any more than this, I just need it to sleep in after all."

"How can you sleep in here? It's so small, you would have dreams of claustrophobia!" Despite what he was saying, Zither! actually crawled inside, ducking his head and movements halting and uneven. Hall's eyes widened because the tent was definitely too small for two people, and crawling in meant the virtuoso had to crawl _over_ Hall to fit in, the narrow space not allowing for him to crawl in beside Hall's body.

"It's so cramped, I can barely breathe!" Zither! made a few exaggerated noises of protest, and then without warning took off his mask.

Hall remained frozen, now for more than one reason. Zither! was close, so very close, and this was the first time Hall actually saw his face.

And more surprisingly, the look on his face didn't match the outrage he was play-acting, nor the teasing that his whole presence in the tent appeared to be. Rather than that, he was actually looking remorseful, not an expression Hall had ever expected from Zither! based on his behaviour.

"I actually came to apologise for earlier," Zither! told him, suddenly all earnest - like he wasn't straddling Hall in a very tiny tent, faces suspiciously close due to the lack of space. "I didn't mean to make you, well, remember anything painful. Or make you feel bad in any other way. What I mean to say is, I didn't mean to drive you away."

"You didn't," Hall assured him breathlessly. "I told you, I'm just tired."

Zither! shook his head, a small amused smile playing over his lips. "Ah, my dear Hall, nobody would've fallen for that even if you had actually pretended to look tired. Not even a mask could've hidden your anxiety."

Hall swallowed heavily, for a long moment only aware of one thing: Zither! using his actual name. He hadn't heard Zither! refer to any of them except for Isabela by their own names before, always forgetting how everyone was called despite having the memory to bring up an anecdote to almost every other word uttered during a mission. Hall was one of the few he addressed by any name at all, and that was just a nickname because Hall supposedly reminded him of his harpsichordist Ed - or so Zither! had claimed. Hall had honestly been convinced the other didn't know his name.

Hall's silence lasted too long, and without a mask Zither! had nothing to hide his own hint of anxiety playing over his features. Hall noted that non of that showed in the man's body language, just his face, and when he spoke it wasn't in his bright and optimistic voice either. "Well, that's just what I came for. To apologise. Because bad memories - or good memories, or whatever memories that made you look so sad and anxious. I never intended to make you feel bad."

"It wasn't the memories why I left," Hall blurted before he could stop himself, halting Zither! halfway his first movement to crawl backwards out of the little tent again.

"Say what?" He questioned, curiously. He looked hopeful, and Hall had to swallow heavily again. Seeing Zither!'s face, so expressive in a completely different way than his actions always were, that made this seem way intimate. Zither! barging in on Hall in his smalls made him feel less exposed than he felt Zither! was now.

"It was because everyone was watching," he admitted, embarrassed. "I'm not used to… so many people's attention on me. I felt like I was suffocating with so many eyes on me."

"Ah, stage fright!" Suddenly a smile overtook Zither!'s face that fully fit his usual behaviour. "That I can understand, Ed Two! I shall let you in on a little secret: Even the great Zither! has felt stage fright before. It was a long time ago, when I first played for an important audience. But practice makes perfect, and bluffing can get you through almost anything!"

Bluffing… that was an interesting thought. Hall never tried bluffing before, and he was probably terrible at it. If he was going to try it, this was probably the time, where nobody else could watch him fail.

Before he could think better of it he grabbed for Zither!'s wide collar, dragging him closer and pressing their lips together. Zither! Didn't miss a beat, kissing back immediately and not showing any outward sign of surprise aside from the raising of his eyebrows.

Thing was, Hall had no idea what he was doing. And he knew that Zither! was an expert on this topic. So his bluffed confidence left him like a deep breath held for too long, whooshing out of him to be replaced by his anxiety at what his actions had just brought him.

Zither! stayed leaned over him though, hands planted on either side of Hall's shoulders to keep his weight up, and he was smirking. Hall even dared to say he saw a flush on the man's cheeks, despite the bad lighting filtering into the tent.

"Now _that_ is what I'm talking about. Keep that up for longer than five seconds and you could have the world in the palm of your hand."

"I-I don't want the world," Hall admitted quietly.

"I used to want the world." Zither! sank down, pinning Hall down on his bedroll with little effort. "But ever since joining the Inquisition… I have found something much better to want."

Zither!'s lips brushed against Hall's again, and this time Hall did not hold back. He may be inexperienced and suck and bluffing, but he also knew that enthusiasm could make up for a lot in those faults. And as it seemed, he didn't really need to know how to bluff to have this one thing, unexpected as it was. Unexpected, but very welcome, and Hall would be the last to complain.

Complaining was all Zither!'s job, when he tried to roll to Hall's side for a different position a few minutes later and took down the whole tent with him.


End file.
